


These Days of Dust

by Dreamlover1102



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I Don't Even Know, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Canon, Spoilers, it's so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 20:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11020644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamlover1102/pseuds/Dreamlover1102
Summary: You've got such a big heart, Bellamy“Yeah, well, two-thirds of it is missing,” he muttered to his empty room, as if her ghost could hear him all the way from earth. His voice a wreck from all the words left unspoken between them. Words he’d never get to say because she wasn't here and she never would be again.He fell asleep dreaming about Clarke being burned alive. Only this time, it wasn't the death wave that killed her but the heat from the rocket jets that melted the skin off her bones like the Grounder army they killed.Praimfaya didn't kill Clarke.He did.





	These Days of Dust

**Author's Note:**

> THAT SEASON FINALE THOUGH! The title and lyrics come from I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons (Which is a great Bellarke song and someone should use those lyrics in a gif, js...I also don't own them, obviously) Also, I’m about as bad with science as The 100 writers - let's be real here - so this probably has plot holes all over it. *Shrug* Enjoy, anyway?
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The 100 or I Will Wait by Mumford and Sons so please don't sue me.

Well I came home  
Like a stone  
And I fell heavy into your arms  
These days of dust  
Which we've known  
Will blow away with this new sun

But I'll kneel down  
Wait for now  
And I'll kneel down  
Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you

……………

 

One week.

They’d been in space for one week and everything was going better than they’d expected. Minor hiccups, but nothing Monty or Raven couldn't science or engineer their way out of. Raven had been spending countless amounts of time taking spacewalks to repair things left behind from the ark’s departure. She’d come back each time breathless and elated, something Bellamy never got to see from her while on the ground, and he wondered if Raven was the only one who didn't miss earth as much as the others. 

As much as he did. 

He’d spent the first week pacing the hallways in between work and repairs while he waited for Monty and Raven to connect to a radio down on earth, but all they ever heard was silence. Raven theorized that communication was down because there were no satellite towers to ping off of. Most likely destroyed during Praimfaya. 

A theory she delivered with her voice growing quieter with each word as the full meaning of what she said dawned on her. On him. On the others.   
No towers, no communication. He wouldn't be able to talk to his sister for the next five years. 

He spent the rest of the day in his room trying not to punch the walls until his knuckles were bloody. He tried not to think about everything that could go wrong during those five years. His sister trapped with no way to talk to him. She could die and he wouldn't know it until he got back down. 

He also tried not to think about towers being destroyed during Praimfaya because that mental image conjured feelings he’d been trying not to deal with. But it was a losing battle, an exhausted warring inside of him, as the last real conversation he had with Clarke replayed in his head on a continuous loop. It drove him each morning to get out of bed, to work, to fix, to clean, to eat, to wait, to do whatever he needed to do and be what she would want him to be, because that's what she told him to do. 

You’ve got such a big heart, Bellamy. 

“Yeah, well, two-thirds of it is missing,” he muttered to his empty room, as if her ghost could hear him all the way from earth. His voice a wreck from all the words left unspoken between them. Words he’d never get to say because she wasn't here and she never would be again. 

He fell asleep dreaming about Clarke being burned alive. Only this time, it wasn't the death wave that killed her but the heat from the rocket jets that melted the skin off her bones like the Grounder army they killed. 

Praimfaya didn't kill Clarke. 

He did.

He woke up in a cold sweat and spent the rest of the night punching the walls until his knuckles felt like they would shatter.

……………

On the one year anniversary of Praimfaya, Monty sauntered into the room carrying a steaming metal pot, followed by a grinning Murphy and sheepish looking Emori, both of which had their hands full with cups. Bellamy frowned as Monty set the container down in front of him like an offering. Monty’s demeanor was not as joyful as the other two. Rather he seemed morose and depressed, and Bellamy wondered if Monty thought about Jasper every single step he took on the ring. Like walking the hallways and seeing ghosts pass through doorways. 

It was a feeling Bellamy could share. 

“What’s this?” he asked, though it was pointless. He knew what it was. What today was. Why Monty felt it necessary to waste perfectly good resources to make it. He knew he should be upset but when he glanced to Raven, she only cocked a brow and smiled and Bellamy let out a sigh. 

“It’s been a year.” Was all Monty said, before pulling the ladle out and taking the offered cup from Murphy. He poured the moonshine in the cup and stuck out his hand to give it to Bellamy. 

Bellamy shook his head and Murphy scuffed. “Come on, Bellamy, take the stick out of your ass and have a drink. God knows, we all need one today.” And with that as his encouraging speech of the day, he took the ladle from Monty and poured one for himself and Emori before taking a seat.

Bellamy accepted Monty’s offer but didn't take a drink. He set the cup down in front of him and glanced at Raven again. Raven shrugged before grabbing a cup herself. “Murphy’s right,” she said. The door opened behind them and Echo and Harper trailed inside with a second pot and two more cups. 

“Two pots?” Bellamy asked, voice raising an octave. What was Monty thinking? 

Monty poured himself a cup and sat down with not a hint of guilt. He took a large swallow, eyes closing as if in memory, before he let out a breath. “It’s been a year,” he said again, defeated and quiet. Echo and Harper took a seat next to Raven and the room filled with silence. Bellamy gripped the handle tighter before bringing the cup to his lips.

He chugged the whole thing in one gulp. 

………………

Raven found him an hour later, his third cup half empty and sitting on the windowsill as he gazed down at earth. 

“We’ve been on the ring longer now than we were on earth,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. 

He let out a breath. “Doesn't feel like it,” he replied, eyes never leaving the window. 

Raven sat down on the windowsill, not responding but she didn't need to. He didn't need to explain what he meant. Not to her. Not to anyone, really. This was a feeling all of them, with the exception of Echo and Emori, they all shared. Nine months wasn't very long and yet it had felt like a lifetime. So many times in which they’d almost died. Nine months on earth felt much longer than a year in space when in that time, they’d experienced more tragedy and heartbreak than they ever did in space. 

He picked up his cup and took a seat beside her. As he met her eyes, she raised her cup in salute. “Do you think she’d be mad we were drinking or impressed that Monty managed to make something out of nothing?” Raven asked, pulling her gaze away from him the moment she’d said it. 

Clarke. He didn't want to think about Clarke, especially when he’d been drinking but honesty was something he still needed to work on with himself. He’d been thinking of Clarke everyday for the last year. The first thing he remembered upon waking up and the last thought that flitted through his mind before sleep claimed him. It was why he had pulled himself away from the others and found himself at this windowsill. Cup half full because in his mind, when he drank, he wanted to share it with Clarke. Let them have the drink that they never got to share on earth. 

Plus, today was in Clarke’s memory. Perhaps that was why Raven had sought him out. That or she hadn't been looking for him to begin with. Maybe she’d been coming here to think of Clarke herself. 

Maybe they all did. 

After a minute, he realized he hadn't answered Raven’s question. “Both,” he said, taking a sip finally, instead of just staring at it before clearing his throat to continue, “I think she’d praise him while she lectured him. She was always good at that.” 

Raven laughed, but it sounded more choked and broken before blinking rapidly. “Yeah,” she whispered, “She was, wasn't she?” 

The door down opened down the hall and when Bellamy glanced up, he found Monty and Harper paused at the end of the hallway. They each had a cup in one hand, while the other gripped each other. 

“Sorry,” Harper said as they drew closer.

“We didn't mean to interrupt. We just…” Monty trailed off, looking lost as he stared out the window. Harper laid her head on his shoulder.

“There’s plenty of room. Come join us,” Raven replied, hearing the words Monty and Harper weren't saying. 

“Thanks,” Monty said, flashing a smile, before pulling Harper toward the wall nearest to Raven. They took a seat and for a moment, the only sound was the soft sniffling from Harper and Raven and Monty tapping his cup on the ground every so often. 

Bellamy’s jaw hurt from clenching it so hard but he was afraid that if he relaxed at all, he may break. He let out a breath. This isn't what Clarke would want. This silence. This grief covered cloud that hovered over them. He unclenched his jaw and opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Murphy burst through the door with a laugh.

“Guys, I found the deck of cards we lost last month. Who wants to play a game of strip poker?” He held up a beat up deck of cards, grinning from ear to ear as Emori came in behind him carrying what was left of pot two and Echo behind her, looking lost but amused. 

Raven snorted while Monty groaned. 

“Please keep your clothes on, Murphy,” Harper said but she said it with a smile.

Murphy rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll gamble chores.” 

Bellamy let out a chuckle, nodding his head to the empty floor beside him in invitation and the rest migrated forward. Emori set the pot on the floor in the middle so they all could reach it and Raven cracked her knuckles. 

“You all ready to lose?” she asked, grinning as if she had already won.

Bellamy raised a brow at her. “Don't be so confident, Raven. Harper swept you under the floor the last time.” 

“It's her damn doe eyes,” Raven sputtered out, “She looks so innocent!” 

Harper laughed. “I did warn you in the beginning that I was good at poker,” she said. 

Raven slid down to the floor, setting her cup beside her. “Well, your innocent little eye flutter won't work this time,” she grumbled back. 

Murphy shuffled the cards and Bellamy leaned back against the window, feeling more relaxed as heated banter began to flow between the group. Echo chimed in saying she wouldn't have lost had she known how to play the first time and Emori had nodded in agreement.

As the minutes turned into hours, the silence of grief chased away with laughter and shared stories, Bellamy looked back down at earth with a small smile playing around his lips because this is what Clarke would have wanted.

The camaraderie, the team dynamic, the shared feeling of being in this together. That is what Clarke would have wanted even if it meant tough decisions later, the burden of choosing your head over your heart. He believed Clarke would have beaten them all at poker, would have swept them all under the rug because Clarke had always been good at gambling. 

And as he looked over his group, the pot having run empty awhile ago, but his cup still half full, he watched as each of them would glance toward the window every so often. Toward the earth down below. Each of them either smiling or growing quieter in thought at every glance, he accepted then that yes, they all made their way to this spot today for their own reasons and not to seek him out. 

Because Clarke hadn't been just his, she was all of theirs, even Echo’s in a way, and it's this thought that makes it easier to swallow the rest of his drink. To join in on the banter. To smile. To laugh. 

Survival’s a team sport.

He unclenched his jaw and relaxed just a bit. 

…………...

But it wasn't always like that. Their time in space. They weren't always filled with laughter or teamwork or camaraderie. 

Sometimes sleep became unbearable because when he closed his eyes, Clarke’s smile was small, a corner lifted up like a white flag, always directed at him. Sometimes when he’d walk down a hallway, headed toward the spot they all had begun to visit regularly, he could hear Octavia’s footsteps behind him but when he turned around, she wasn't there and he had to take a minute to remember that she wasn't there because she was safe under the floor. No, wait, safe in the bunker. Under the ground. On earth. 

He’d turn a corner and find Harper hesitating to open the door, her eyes sad as she listened to soft crying on the other side. 

He left her there because his heart couldn't find words to comfort with. 

He’d walk past the control room, catch a glimpse of Raven clutching her leg, other hand tapping at the computer while she muttered algorithms under her breath. She stopped, take a breath and whisper “I don’t chose pain, I chose life” over and over again like a mantra and he’d wondered what that meant as he continued down the hall. 

He’d enter a room and find Echo hunched over a table, scratching in something with the tip of the dagger she managed to smuggle to space with her. Her golden hair would be curled and wavy because Harper had braided it the night before and suddenly, the dagger she was using would be bloody and he wouldn't see Echo, but Gina instead, and he’d have to leave with his fists clenched and his legs shaking. 

He wander all over the ring, like a never ending loop, spotting Emori staring out the window with something close to anger and fear. He’d find Murphy with his head in his hands and an empty cup next to him.

And when he finally got to the spot he originally intended to arrive at, when he looked down at earth, all he saw was the Indra’s rage filled and heartbroken eyes staring back at Pike while Bellamy scrambled to come up with an excuse to keep her alive. He’d close his eyes and he’d think of Jasper’s pain and Maya’s innocence. He’d feel the wind rush around his face while he watched Sterling fall to his death. Hear the gunshot ring around the small family bunker while Finn’s crazed eyes glanced around the room. Listened to Monroe’s gasping breaths, lungs filled with blood. He could still feel the heartbreak at being unable to save Fox. Of failing to save Peter and his father. 

The choices he made that weighed so heavily on his shoulders because there was nothing but empty space on either side of him. The decisions he had to live with. Each death he failed to prevent. Their names forever branded in his mind like a scar he could still pick at. Their eyes watching him in the dark. 

When he opened his eyes again, looking down to the depths below, the earth looked angry and red compared to the expanse of black backdrop that spread as far as the eye could see. He’d take a steady breath and search for blue like the color of the ocean or the sky that use to stretch out over them while the planted their feet on earth, each step a memory. The blue that had spots of grey and sometimes green. Flecks of sapphire.

Like Clarke’s eyes when she looked up at the sky above her. 

He’d want to float himself when the weight got too heavy. Want to fling himself into that black depth above and below him while he carried the world like Atlas. 

But the only way to survive is if you use this too. 

And he tried. He was trying. For her, because he had vowed to do so in this very spot. She would not have died in vain. 

But his heart was a traitorous thing and sometimes, after pacing the corridors long enough to finally feel like he could get some sleep, he’d crawl into bed with tears in his eyes while his heart whispered hope he shouldn't have. What if the nightblood worked? What if Becca’s lab was radiation proofed enough to survive the death wave? What if Clarke had enough time to make it back? What if she was still alive down there? 

And he’d clutch at his sheets and beg himself to stop, to please just stop. Because sometimes having hope hurt too much to hold on to. 

…………..

Now I'll be bold  
As well as strong  
And use my head alongside my heart  
So take my flesh  
And fix my eyes  
A tethered mind free from the lies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry… Have I mentioned I love angst? No? I may continue this. Don't know yet. Let me know what you all think.


End file.
